85 (Spell)



If sorrow had no lover, the petals 

of roses woud sing, and night would not heal

the wound, and we would not blink our eyes, still,

still, and breathe these ashes, these ashes, through

our teeth.  We would not melt the snow with our 

dreams, and water would not be wine with no

color and no flavor, and the laughter of children,

the other children, would not pierce the window,

would not draw us so near the horizon.


If sorrow has no lover, who will pour,

and who will light the cigarette?  And will

there be no ivory blade to cut the seal?

To read aloud the jinx?  "I cast the spell."